


Designation: Omega

by Nerdylittleangelenthusiast (Anderseeds)



Series: Supernatural Works [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, M/M, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anderseeds/pseuds/Nerdylittleangelenthusiast
Summary: “Right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Who’s up for a little shindig at the office of New York’s finest?”They looked at him like he was insane, and that was fair enough; it was an appropriate reaction to suggesting they storm a building full of armed law enforcement, but Dean was a party man, and he was not going to let a little death get in the way of him having a good time.Commissioner Novak incessantly gets in the way of criminal kingpin Dean Winchester, and Dean uncovers some information that serves for a perfect revenge.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Works [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068692
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82





	Designation: Omega

**Author's Note:**

> This one's dark, so make sure you read the warnings! Omega's are also very susceptible to their instincts in this one.

Designation: Omega.

Dean stared at these two words with a growing smile, the corners of his mouth sharp-edged.

Designation: Omega. Designation: Omega. _Designation: Omega_. It didn’t lose its kick no matter how many times he scanned the letters, his well of satisfaction expanding with each repetition.

Castiel Novak, commissioner of the local law enforcement and major pain in Dean’s ass, was an omega. And better still, he was one parading himself as an alpha, so deep in his cover he’d even secured himself an alpha’s job. No omega would have been selected to be commissioner; omega’s were barely even permitted to leave the house, much less lead anything. Yet here Castiel was, lording it over alpha’s and beta’s alike, taking on criminal organisations with all the ease of a dog after rabbits- all except Dean, of course, because Dean was perceptive and experienced enough to evade the covert operations Castiel sent after him. He’d lost a few good men to Castiel’s efforts: Benny, Pamela, even Sam, despite Dean’s best efforts to hide him, but Castiel had never gotten so far as to reach Dean.

It’d taken him almost a year to find an officer corrupt enough to take a bribe in exchange for the identity of the one leading the charge against Dean, then an extra month to dig up any dirt he could use against Castiel, but god, the payoff for all that time, effort and money couldn’t have been more worth it. With this information, tearing down Castiel’s entire life would be as simple as showing up and throwing the papers pilfered from Castiel’s private doctor into the closest set of hands. Omega’s were so highly valued as breeders that Castiel would be evicted from his job and married off to the highest bidder within the day. But for someone who’d spent the last year stifling Dean’s trafficking operation, that seemed far too kind a disclosure. He deserved something far more bombastic, far more _memorable_.

He threw the papers into Belphegor’s waiting hands and retrieved a folder from the floor, extending it to Crowley. They didn’t trade in money; they traded in secrets, and this one had a little something on an uppity chick named Abaddon. He’d never done business with her and he had no desire to, so he had no qualms with giving Crowley exactly what he needed to deal with her.

“Best deal I’ve made so far. Have fun with that, Crowley.”

Crowley smiled wide, with teeth. “You too, darling. Don’t be a stranger.”

With a little two-fingered salute, Dean turned to address his men. Only five of them, but he’d round up more when they got back to base. He’d need at least ten for his operation, and at least six of them would have to be disposable. He didn’t want to throw anyone too valuable into the wolf’s den.

“Right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Who’s up for a little shindig at the office of New York’s finest?”

They looked at him like he was insane, and that was fair enough; it was an appropriate reaction to suggesting they storm a building full of armed law enforcement, but Dean was a party man, and he was _not_ going to let a little death get in the way of him having a good time.

* * *

It took them three weeks to prepare for the siege on the police department, and he was sporting a boner for a significant amount of that time just conceiving of all the ways he was going to mess up Castiel’s perfect little life. It was going to be something special, watching realisation dawn. He could just picture it: those bright blue eyes widening, those plush, pink lips falling into a part, and that warm complexion paling to the white of bone. Maybe he would shake; maybe he would cry. He’d certainly be doing those things eventually, but Dean wouldn’t be opposed to witnessing them before the festivities began. He had a lot of grievances to work through after losing several of his inner circle.

The most expendable of his men were already inside, filling in false reports and preparing take Deputy Balthazar hostage with automatic rifles his inside man had stowed in the bathroom bins. Dean kept his eyes pinned to this phone screen, watching the minutes ticking down; three, two, one… shouts erupted from deep within the station and Dean barrelled out of his car and up the entrance steps. He shot his way through two men standing in reception, ignoring the shout of agony one of his own made as they caught a bullet and went down. Stepping over the pigs’ fallen bodies, he slammed the button to unlock the entrance and hurried his way into the bowels of the police station.

The main office was just as chaotic as one would expect during a siege. There were papers flying and several chairs had been displaced, thrown aside in peoples efforts to flee. Most people were standing, but some had crawled beneath desks and were huddling at the very back of them, hoping against all logic that the thin backing would be enough to protect them from bullets. At the end of the room, one of his men lay on the floor in a puddle of their own blood, bleeding out but still alive, their slick fingers closed over an automatic rifle; near him was Dean's other man, who was currently holding a gun to the skull of a pale-faced Balthazar. Amid it all stood Castiel, just as tall and proud and beautiful as the pictures had shown him to be.

The rest of his men filed in after him and trained their guns on whoever was closest. Most police officers had their guns raised as well, so this would have made for a stalemate… if not for the fact _they_ had Balthazar, and he knew Castiel wouldn’t give the order to repel them with his beloved cousin moments away from having his brains splattered across the wall.

Dean stepped deeper into the building with a grin that displayed as much gum as it did teeth. Castiel narrowed his eyes at him upon identifying who he was, his shoulders rising into a tight line.

“Hey there, Cas,” he offered in greeting, raising a hand to give him a casual wave.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed further, the blue of them turned to slits.

“Nice to finally meet the man who’s been up my ass for the past year.” He tapped the barrel of his gun against his thigh as he approached, looking Castiel up and down. For a police officer, he wasn’t very imposing. A little short and thin, bordering on lanky. Looked more like someone you would find in a library than the commissioners office of a police department. A nerdy little guy, and conveniently, that was exactly Dean’s type.

"Everyone hold," boomed Castiel before he turned to Dean, his expression carefully schooled. It must have taken a great deal of effort not to glance back at Balthazar. "What do you want, Winchester?” 

“What do I want.” Dean gave his lips a thoughtful lick. “Well, for starters, I want you to bend over this desk.” He stepped over to the desk in question, brushing everything on it to the floor, including a laptop, which smashed into two upon impact with the floor. In the unnatural quiet of the room, the thud of it was thundering. The delicate among Castiel’s men jumped in alarm. 

Castiel stared at him, unphased. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said I want you over this desk, sweetheart.” He gestured to it with his gun. “Now, or your cousin over there is gonna have his brains reduced to mincemeat.”

At his threat, his man jammed the gun harder into the back of Balthazar’s skull, jarring it forward. The yelp it elicited was enough to compel Castiel closer to the desk, his eyes falling to it with visible apprehension.

“If I do as you ask, I want to be assured his safety and the safety of the rest of my men.”

He was plainly at a disadvantage and still he made demands. The little guy had balls, Dean would give him that.

“You have my assurance he won’t be touched, as long as you do _everything_ I ask,” said Dean.

Swallowing, Castiel took another step toward the desk, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “How do I know you’ll hold to that?”

“Because I’d be an idiot if I decided to go guns blazing,” said Dean, flippant. “And you know I’m not that type of guy.”

After another long moment of hesitation, Castiel planted his hands on the desk and slowly bent over it, tucking his elbows beneath himself.

“Oh, no,” said Dean, reaching over to set a hand between Castiel’s shoulder blades and push. “All the way down.” Another push, and Castiel unfurled his arms, allowing Dean to press him down until he was draped across the wood with his ass presented to the air. There was a near imperceptible hitch to Castiel’s breathing, and his eyes were wide and staring at the floor. What a lovely sight.

The surrounding officers turned dead-silent. A few of them looked away.

“There we go,” murmured Dean as he slid his hand down the length of Castiel’s spine, dancing his fingers briefly over the waistband of Castiel’s trousers before delving down to unzip them. Castiel had gone so tense he probably could have repelled bullets. With a snort, Dean tugged his dress shirt out of his slacks and pushed his trousers and underwear to his thighs.

“Cassie,” said Balthazar, his voice practically a whimper. “It’ll be okay, Cas.”

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured for his man to shut the guy up, which he achieved through a hard smack to the back of Balthazar’s skull. The shout Balthazar gave in response prompted Castiel to try to rise, but Dean kept him in place with a firm hand.

“He’s fine,” said Dean. “Just gonna have a headache after. Can't have him lying to you.” Then he flipped the end of Castiel’s shirt up, unveiling the pale slope of his ass and _lots_ of eyes diverted then, shying away from the sight of their superiors perfect, pert cheeks. He was sure those gazes would return the moment Castiel started moaning like a whore.

Castiel’s breaths turned ragged, the outline of him trembling now. With his being an omega, there wasn’t preparation necessary before Dean stuck fingers into him, and he didn’t just go with one; he stuck in two, sinking in so easily that it was apparent there was something different about Castiel’s biology even without the production of slick. Castiel’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk, tremoring hard as Dean ventured deep into his silky passage in search of that delightful bundle of nerves- ah! And there it was.

“All those years climbing up the ladder, and you’re still a little omega bitch,” cooed Dean. Several people around them gasped.

Any response Castiel might have had was silenced as Dean rubbed his fingers insistently over his sweet spot, and what came out instead was a long, strangled moan. It wouldn’t be long before his omega instincts took over and made him desperate for Dean’s cock. His skin turned pink, overtaking the pale that had slid into his skin the moment this ordeal had begun, and already he was starting to seep slick, his thighs damp with it.

Dean bent closer, working him over until the strangled quality of his voice eased off and his thighs began to shake. The room was quiet save for the sounds he was making; everyone was transfixed on the sight of an omega in the throes of pleasure, even the beta’s present. Several people were so affected by the sight that they were hard, straining against the front of their trousers. With how prized omega’s were, it was likely no one here had – knowingly, at least – seen one until now, let alone one that was aroused and moaning wantonly.

When he withdrew his fingers, Castiel gave the most piteous little whine.

“Beg me,” said Dean as he unzipped his trousers, stepping to the side of Castiel so he’d get an eyeful of his cock. The man was rocking back into the air, meeting nothing and so desperate for that absence to be filled that there was no doubt in Dean’s mind that he would give in. “Beg me to put this in you, and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll forget what it was like not to have a cock in you.”

Castiel bit his bottom lip, clearly struggling against his instincts. “I-I-“

“Beg me,” said Dean again, his voice low enough to pass for a growl. He stepped behind Castiel then, letting his cock rest heavy between Castiel’s cheeks, letting him feel the weight of it, the heat it radiated. He pressed Castiel’s ass apart to let it graze over his entrance, just for that extra bit of persuasion. “Beg me, omega.”

And with that, Castiel’s composure crumbled. He rocked back against Dean, trying and failing to impale himself on Dean’s cock and reaching back with a shaking hand to try and position it at his ready hole. “Please. Pl-please fuck me. Please, please-”

In one thrust, he sheathed himself completely in Castiel. The elongated cry that tore from Castiel was so hot that Dean would have done anything to be able to bottle it and soak himself in it just as thoroughly as he was the thick, honeyed scent that was now rising from Castiel. Lacking the ability to do that, he simply leaned down and licked a long stripe up the nape of Castiel’s neck, lingering over his throbbing scent gland and relishing in the helpless little moans this action drew.

“Don’t you just make the most perfect bitch, Commissioner,” he murmured, smiling against Castiel’s skin before pulling out and slamming his way back into Castiel’s tight channel, sending the desk skating across the ground. Around them, people shifted restlessly, watching with either arousal or horror – some having the misfortune of experiencing both.

As he settled into a punishing rhythm, Castiel scrabbled at the desks surface like a pinned bird, scraping lines into it with his nails and throwing out a series of helpless whimpers and groans. He was pressing back into every thrust, tightening up each time he did and rising up on his toes to get that little bit more of Dean into him. Dean was happy to give him every inch, lingering for a few seconds each time he was fully sheathed so Castiel’s body could memorise every ridge and vein of his cock. It only took a few more thrust for Castiel to get a feel of his knot as well, its girth stretching Castiel open with each rock of Dean’s hips and steadily becoming harder and harder to pull out without meeting resistance. It was obscene how Castiel's ass stretched around it, gripped at it, and everyone was getting a good eyeful.

He fixed his gaze on Castiel’s face as he thrust, taking in his glassy eyes and red cheeks and dishevelled hair and admiring how very beautiful these details were. He looked beautiful, sounded beautiful, and while Dean had intended to simply leave Castiel to his fate and watch his life crumble from afar following this, he was rapidly realising he had no desire to ever let this perfect little omega out of his sight. He wanted to keep him- no, _would_ keep him, because what Dean Winchester wanted, Dean Winchester got. The fact he was fucking Castiel in the middle of his own station was testament to that.

He gripped Castiel about the hips and bent over him, rolling the leathery head of his cock over Castiel’s engorged, throbbing sweet spot and licking hungrily at his nape, grinding the flat of his tongue hard against his scent gland. It wasn’t until he felt Castiel tighten with impending orgasm that he bit down, sinking his teeth deep enough to mark, to mate, and the blinding pleasure of unity that followed brought them both hurtling into their finish.

A violent shudder rocked through Dean as his come spread warm and thick through Castiel. He growled one long, proprietorial note and pushed his knot that little bit further into Castiel to ensure Castiel wouldn’t be able to evict his seed anytime soon. Over the blood raging in his ears, he just barely registered Castiel’s overwrought scream and the splatter of Castiel’s own finish hitting the floor.

For a long time, the only sound that broke the silence of the police department were their heavy pants. Then, slowly, Dean rose to speak.

“Well,” he said, licking his dry lips. Several people were still hard; one of them had managed to come in their pants and was currently blushing as red as a fire hydrant. “Consider that Commissioner Novak’s resignation.”

* * *

It hadn’t been difficult to remove Castiel from the station. In their shock, Castiel's subordinates had been slow to act, and only Balthazar had leapt at the first sign of Castiel being taken. This turned out to be convenient, because one bullet to Balthazar's leg and every officer was diverted to addressing his well-being (he was next in line to be the commissioner, after all, and there was no chance Castiel would have remained in the role even if Dean hadn't thoroughly debased him).

For the first month, Castiel furiously resisted Dean’s attempts to acclimate him to his new life, fighting him on everything, at every turn- except during sex, of course, because that was when his instincts would reign and he would chase his pleasure with a reckless abandon. By the second month, after having his composure torn to ribbons again and again by Dean’s cock and knot and practised fingers, his resistance started to wane, and there came times where he would willingly sheath himself on Dean’s cock, eager for the bliss it provided. By the fourth, he was compliant enough that Dean started to bring him out of his room.

“Caught yourself a commissioner, I see,” said Crowley with a laugh, visibly intrigued with the sight of Castiel sitting between Dean’s legs, Dean’s cock buried in the wet embrace of his throat. “I thought you were going to kill the little bastard?”

“Decided he’d make a better cocksleeve,” said Dean, grinning and rocking forward, pressing himself as deep into Castiel as he could go. Having no gag reflex to speak of by this point, Castiel took it all with ease. “What’d you do with Abaddon, by the way?”

“Not this,” said Crowley, wrinkling his nose. “I don't generally do my enemies, but my... I'd be willing to make an exception for little Cassie. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share?” To this inquiry, Dean growled. Crowley threw up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Fine, all yours. But if you ever do get bored of him, keep me in mind.”

“I doubt I will.” Dean dropped a hand to Castiel’s hair and raked his fingers slowly through the soft, sweat-damp curls. “I mean, look at him. Would _you_ get tired of this?”

Crowley licked his teeth. “You make a good point. I’m going to have to gather the funds for my own omega, one of these days. But on to business-“ He tossed a suitcase onto Dean’s desk, flicking it open to pull out two jars, in which were preserved pieces of _human_. “Here's everything you need to get through Luke’s security system.”

His newest arch-rival. Neither attractive, nor charming, so Dean was probably just going to kill this one instead of keeping him as a living trophy. He gave Castiel’s hair another languid stroke and drew the jars over, squinting through the preservative liquid to get a look at the fingers and eyes inside.

“You took both hands and eyes?”

“Just in case you lose one,” said Crowley, shrugging. “You know what the help is like. Never all that reliable.” Snapping the empty suitcase shut and tossing it into the arms of a nearby employee, Crowley turned to take his leave. “Remember: you get through that security; I’ll send in some men to assist. That uppity little bastard won’t know what hit him.”

“And you get to shoot him,” Dean added for him. That’d gone over this so many times now he could have mimicked Crowley’s every inflection. “Just like the first hundred times, I got it. I’ll see you there.”

“I’d better,” said Crowley, then he was gone.

Dean leaned back in his chair and fisted his hand into Castiel’s hair, pulling him off his cock with a pop. A string of saliva snapped, sending drool sliding down the side of Castiel’s reddened lips. “That’s enough of that,” he said, closing his eyes. “I want you to ride me now.”

Like the good, obedient omega Dean had shaped him into, Castiel rose to his feet and clambered onto Dean’s chair, sinking onto his thick cock in one easy movement, and that was where he remained even when people filtered into the room and witnessed his debasement, and even when it was apparent he was getting tired. Dean had been working on him for almost half a year, and Dean always had been very good at breaking people.


End file.
